To Megan’s chagrin she didn’t see Giles Elliott at all the next day. Apparently he had gone to London to some special conference on trauma, and had taken one of the senior house officers with him. Megan found this out because an orthopaedic registrar had come down to the casualty department for the day to help out during the other junior doctor’s absence.
The fact that she couldn’t explain to Giles Elliott why she had been in the Woodpecker the previous night and not at rehearsal, bothered Megan more than she cared to admit to herself. She felt restless and edgy and it was only with a supreme effort of self-will that she concentrated on her tasks. The mere fact that she found it so difficult to put him out of her mind bothered her too, and eventually she became annoyed with herself. This is ridiculous, she told herself severely. Stop making mountains out of molehills; the man probably hasn’t given you another thought since last night. However, try as she might, Giles Elliott’s face with its stony stare of disapproval kept floating in front of her mind’s eye.
To make matters worse, at least as far as Megan was concerned, the department was unusually quiet, with no major casualties, no emergency admissions. In fact, by the middle of the afternoon there was absolutely nothing to do. The orthopaedic registrar took the opportunity to do some reading for his final FRCS which was coming up soon and the nurses stood around after they had tidied everything in sight and made sure all the trolleys were fully stocked with everything necessary.
Megan could have done some more paperwork, something she always hated, but this particular afternoon she just knew she definitely would not be able to concentrate on anything as mundane as that. So, commandeering a couple of pupil nurses, she decided to reorganise the store cupboard.
Once they had got stuck into the job there was no stopping her. She changed everything around, labelled the shelves, got them dusted and cleaned, and then they set about the task of restacking the shelves.
The store cupboard was quite large and unfortunately for Megan and the two pupil nurses it had a radiator in it. It had once been intended for use as an office, but due to some oversight on the part of the hospital architect, there was no ventilation or window. The young nurses struggled to turn off the radiator at Megan’s request, but couldn’t manage it. Megan had a try too, but was equally unsuccessful, so they carried on working in the rather hot and stuffy room. The net result of which was that by the time they had finished the task all three of them looked hot and flushed and extremely dusty.
Megan glanced at her watch as they placed the last box of plaster of Paris bandages on the shelf. It was five o’clock, time for the pupil nurses to go off duty. “OK, you two can go now,” she said briskly. “Thanks for all your hard work.”
“Are you sure everything is done, Sister?” asked one of the girls.
“Yes, thank you,” replied Megan, standing with her hands on her hips looking about at the reorganised cupboard with satisfaction. “I’ll just write a note and pin it on the door asking the cleaners to give the floor a good wash, and that will be that. So off you go, and thank you.”
The two girls needed no second bidding, flying off down the corridor, chattering non-stop, towards the female changing rooms.
Megan felt tired now, but at least she had worked the thoughts of Giles Elliott out of her system. Absentmindedly she ran a hand across her forehead, pushing back the rebellious dark hair that had escaped from beneath her cap during her exertions. In a few moments Juliet Moore would be coming on duty, just time for her to write the note for the cleaners.
As she closed the door of the store cupboard behind her and stepped into the corridor, Megan suddenly became aware of two piercing blue eyes, with more than a hint of amusement in them, regarding her. She was also palpably aware of her very dishevelled appearance. Half-heartedly she tried to straighten her cap and push her hair back in place, acutely conscious of his blue eyes taking in every detail of her appearance. She felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment and knew she was turning crimson.
“Have you been having an orgy in the cupboard, Sister? If so, I’m very sorry to have missed it. I should have stayed here instead of going up to London!”
“I, we…um…” If Megan was flustered before, he had completely unnerved her now, and to make matters worse he took a step nearer. Involuntarily she took a step backwards and ended up leaning against the store cupboard door. Her luminous brown eyes, fringed by their impossibly long lashes, looked panic-stricken as she unexpectedly felt herself falling backwards. The door to the store cupboard had not been fastened properly and the light pressure of her slim young body had been enough to send it flying open and her tumbling backwards. Hitting the floor with a thud that knocked all the air out of her lungs, Megan lay still for a split second.
“Megan, are you all right?” Giles’ large frame was bending over her, lifting her gently to her feet.
Still dazed and bewildered, Megan clung to him, vaguely conscious of the comfortingly rough texture of his tweed jacket and the pervading masculine smell of his skin, with its faint, lingering perfume of aftershave. His face was so close to hers it would have been easy to reach up and kiss that strong, determined jawline, and Megan found herself terribly tempted to do just that.
Common sense prevented her. Instead she said, rather lamely, “I’ve been clearing out the store cupboard.”
He smiled down at her. “You seem to make a habit of falling over. What part of your anatomy have you damaged this time?”
Self-consciously Megan tried to push him away.
“Nothing,” she said firmly. “I’m sorry, it was a stupid thing to do.”
“Yes, it was rather,” he replied, his blue eyes smiling. He made no effort to release her—if anything, it seemed to Megan that his arms tightened around her a little.
Her long lashes fluttered down over the becoming curve of her high cheekbones as she lowered her gaze, unable to meet the searching blue of his eyes any longer.
“I’m all right now,” she muttered quickly. “Thank you very much for picking me up.” It seemed a rather inadequate thing to say but she couldn’t think of anything else. In fact she found it difficult to think at all with his arms around her.
“Don’t mention it,” came his low reply. “I really quite enjoyed it.”
“You did?” Megan’s head came up in surprise and simultaneously his dark head came down to meet hers. She was briefly aware that he had kicked the cupboard door shut behind him before his lips came down on hers, blotting out everything. His mouth was hard and demanding, and Megan’s natural instinct was to respond to the urgency of his kiss. A confusing mass of emotions spun like stars in her head.
Abruptly he let her go, saying, “That is what happens to young women who fall at my feet! You have been warned!”
Megan looked at him suspiciously. He was laughing at her.
“My goodness, Sister, you look as if you have never been kissed before,” he said. Now he was laughing out loud.
“Not in a store cupboard,” replied Megan stiffly, unsure which had unnerved her most, his kiss or his laughter. She tried to muster as much dignity as possible. “Personally I think it’s much too stuffy in here for that type of activity.” She made to go past him, trying to reach the door.
His hand snaked out in a quick, agile movement, grasping her slender-boned wrist as she tried to reach the door knob. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have teased you,” he said, but his blue eyes were still laughing.
Vainly Megan tried to wrench her wrist from his grasp, but against the strength of his long, strong fingers her ineffectual struggles made no impact at all.
“Tell me,” his voice was low, throbbing with a vibrancy that caused Megan’s senses to reel, “where would you suggest for this type of activity?”
Her cheeks burned a fiery pink with the red-hot flush that swept across them. Damn the man, he was purposely embarrassing her! Indignantly her brown eyes flashed fire.
“It’s been a long day and I’m tired—and I am not in the mood for jokes.” She tilted her small oval chin defiantly. “If you will please open the door for me…” The tone of her voice was severe and self-composed. Quite the opposite, in fact, of the way she was really feeling.
He took the hint and courteously released her, opening the door for her at the same time. Megan marched out with as much dignity as she could muster in the circumstances, and went straight to her office without so much as a backward glance. Once in her office, however, she rushed to the small mirror that hung on the wall, standing on tiptoe in order to see into it.
Quite what she was expecting to see she wasn’t sure. Irrationally she expected a different girl to gaze back at her from the mirror. The fact that she had been briefly, but thoroughly, kissed by Giles Elliott made her feel different. Hesitantly she raised her hand and gently touched her lips, the lips that only a few moments ago had been kissed. He may have been teasing, but Megan knew that somehow, for her at least, their relationship would never be the same again.
For the umpteenth time since she had met him, she wondered about him. Was he married? Did he have a girlfriend or maybe even a fiancée? She could imagine the sort of girlfriends he would have. Elegantly casual in expensive classic camel coats, with beautiful leather shoes and handbags. Not like herself in the least, having to search around the shops to find fashion that suited the meagre pay of a hospital sister.
Megan sighed. Put all thoughts of him out of your head, she told herself. He is not going to look at a scruffy little thing like yourself, who has to stand on tiptoe to look in the mirror! His type of girl is tall and svelte, one of those Sloane Ranger types you’re always reading about.
Her dreaming thoughts were abruptly halted by the arrival of Juliet Moore. “Busy day?” she enquired, looking curiously at Megan’s flushed appearance.
Self-consciously Megan tried to straighten her cap yet again, and turned away from Juliet to take her cloak off the hanger on the wall. “No, very quiet indeed. If you are thinking that I look a bit…”
“As if you have been pulled through a hedge backwards, to be specific,” interrupted Juliet, laughing.
Megan gasped and went over to the mirror again. “Oh, do I look as bad as that? Whatever must Giles think?”
“Oh,” said Juliet, a note of interest creeping into her voice, “Giles, is it?”
“He told me to call him Giles,” said Megan defensively, “and the reason I look like this is because I have spent the afternoon reorganising the store cupboard. Thanks to me, you will be able to find anything and everything, no matter how much of a hurry you may be in. All the shelves are labelled and everything is in its proper place.”
Juliet laughed. “No wonder you look so hot and bothered. For a moment I thought you had been having another altercation with Mr. Elliott. I mean Giles,” she added with a twinkle in her eye. She came across to Megan. “Here, let me put your cap straight. For goodness’ sake, you can’t go down the corridor like that, you look as if you’ve been on the bottle!”
Megan laughed. “Thanks, Juliet, I can’t see in this wretched mirror properly. We’ll have to lower it.”
“Then I won’t be able to see,” grumbled Juliet good-naturedly. She towered over Megan. “But we’ll lower it—I can always bend at the knees to look at myself.” She gave Megan a friendly slap on the shoulders. “Off you go, you look respectable now.”
Megan grinned at her. She was a nice, comfortable person, easy to get on with. In some ways it was a pity that they worked different duties and never really had the chance to get to know each other well. Giving Juliet a cheery wave she set off down the corridor. As she passed Giles Elliott’s office she noticed the door was open and that he was on the telephone. It was impossible not to hear what he was saying as she went past for the corridor was quiet and empty and his voice had a deep, carrying note to it.
“Of course, darling,” he was saying. “I can’t wait to see you either. See you at the weekend then—take care.”
Megan’s heart plummeted straight into the bottom of her sensible flat black shoes. So he did have a girlfriend, or maybe even a wife after all. Anyway, certainly someone he called darling, and someone he couldn’t wait to see. Her pace quickened—she wanted to get down the corridor and around the corner before he emerged. She managed it and, letting her breath out in a sigh of relief, wrapped her thick cloak tightly around her and stepped out through the automatic sliding doors into the cold night air.
Thank goodness I don’t have to go to rehearsal tonight, she thought. Not many free nights left before Christmas; the revue starts next week, and then it’s Christmas week. She was off duty for Christmas and was looking forward to snatching a few days with Richard and her mother. She and Richard had planned to drive down to Devon together.
It was only after she had showered and washed her hair that it suddenly dawned on her that she still hadn’t explained to Giles Elliott the reason for her presence in the Woodpecker the previous night. Oh well, she thought, heaving a sigh of resignation, it doesn’t matter anyway—he’ll be seeing his darling at the weekend!
The telephone in her room rang, the double ring of an internal call. Probably Susan, thought Megan, picking it up. “Hello,” she said, expecting to hear Susan’s voice.
“Is that you, Megan?” a deep familiar voice came down the line. Megan’s heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be—not Giles Elliott, surely? “Megan?” he said again, a questioning note in his voice.
“Yes, it’s me.” Megan’s voice was hesitant. “Who is it speaking?” Although even as she asked she knew.
“It’s Giles here. I wondered if you were doing anything this evening. Do you have another rehearsal?”
“No, I don’t,” replied Megan. Then she added, for the sake of something to say, “I’ve just washed my hair.”
A deep chuckle came down the line. “At least you can’t give me the excuse of saying you’ve got to wash your hair!”
“Excuse?” echoed Megan.
“Yes, excuse,” he said firmly. “Is there any other reason you can think of that will prevent us from going out and having a meal together tonight?”
Megan paused, conflicting thoughts and emotions racing one after the other through her head. “No,” she said finally.
“Good,” he replied. “I’ll pick you up outside the nurses’ block in an hour’s time.” Then the phone clicked. He had put down the receiver without waiting for her reply.
Megan sat still, transfixed, holding the dead phone in her hand. Half of her was pleased that he still wanted to take her out for a meal, the other half annoyed at his imperious assumption that she would acquiesce!
However, she scurried round and got herself ready. She chose one of the dresses she liked best, a jade green woollen dress that clung to the youthful curves of her slim figure and swirled out in graceful folds from the hips. The colour suited her delicate colouring and brought out the hint of red in her dark tresses. Brushing her hair vigorously she wondered whether to wear it down loose or whether she ought to put it up in a chignon. Deciding that a chignon would be more elegant and make her look more sophisticated, she carefully pinned it up.
Putting on her one and only winter coat, a dark brown velvet, Megan picked up her handbag and gloves and left the flat.
She was ready and waiting on the pavement of the perimeter road when Giles’ car drew up smoothly beside her. “I hope you haven’t been waiting out here in the cold long,” he remarked, opening the door for her.
“No, I’ve only just come out,” replied Megan, suddenly feeling shy and self-conscious in his presence.
He laughed. “I think you are too polite. You would have said that even if you had been standing in that freezing wind for ten minutes,” he said.
“That’s where you are wrong,” retorted Megan. “I should have waited five minutes, then I would have gone back inside.” She thought for a moment; now seemed a good opportunity to explain her apparent rudeness the night before. She cleared her throat in embarrassment. “I know you think I didn’t have a rehearsal last night, even though I said I did because…”
“The rehearsal finished early and you went to the pub,” he interrupted her.
Megan turned her head sharply to look at him. In the darkness of the car she could just make out the shadow of a smile lurking about his lips. “How on earth do you know that?” she demanded.
“Jamie Green told me today, when we went to London,” he replied smoothly. “He also told me that the young man you have lunch with, and who is the leading light of the revue, is your brother.”
“Well, yes he is,” began Megan. “Why else do you think…?” Her voice trailed away. So that was why he had asked her how old she was! She burst out laughing. “You thought I was cradle-snatching, and that he was my boyfriend!” she said between gasps.
“I did.” His voice sounded almost annoyed. “You look so ridiculously young yourself, it would be natural for you to attract younger men.”
“Thanks for the back-handed compliment,” said Megan drily, “most women want to look younger than they are, but not ridiculously young!”
“Sorry,” he said. “That was a tactless thing to say.” He turned his head briefly towards her in the darkness. “Anyway, if it’s any consolation, you look very elegant tonight, and every inch your twenty-six years.”
“Thank you, but I don’t need any consolation,” snapped Megan, wondering how on earth he knew she was twenty-six—or was it just an educated guess on his part? Unless she asked she would never know, but although she was dying to know whether he had actually taken the trouble to find out, she was damned if she was going to question him. Instead she contented herself with asking, “How did you know where I lived?”
“Easy,” he laughed. “If one wants to know anything, just ask the hospital switchboard, the fount of all knowledge where anything in the hospital is concerned.”
Megan smiled; that was true. The switchboard operators had fantastic memories, they seemed to be able to remember everything about everyone.
“I’m living in hospital accommodation at the moment, which I must say I find rather oppressive, until I find somewhere suitable down here to buy.”
“Will you sell your house in Cheyne Walk?” asked Megan.
“No, I don’t think so,” he replied, swinging the car into the car park of an Italian restaurant. “It can stay as the family house, which we can all use whenever any of us are in London.”
At his words something froze up inside Megan. The mention of family, and the word “us” indicated beyond doubt that he must be married. Why then was he asking her out, and why had he kissed her? Did he think she was the type to go out with married men?
Almost as if he had read her thoughts he turned suddenly and said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking you out again on the spur of the moment, but I know very few people down here and, as I said, my hospital accommodation is rather oppressive.”
“Of course I’m not offended,” answered Megan smoothly. “I’m pleased to be able to help. Once you are settled here you’ll soon get to know lots of interesting people, and in the meantime I’m not averse myself to getting out of my little flat. I find it oppressive too.” She paused. “Perhaps one day, if I’m careful with my money, I’ll be able to buy a house of my own to live in.”
“Your reply sounds very formal, Sister Jones!” His voice had a teasing note to it which Megan made herself resist.
“It was meant to,” she replied, opening the car door and getting out.
“Anyway, you won’t have to buy yourself a house,” he said carrying on the conversation as he locked the car doors. “You’ll get married, and your husband will buy you a beautiful house.”
“Not at the rate I’m going,” said Megan practically. “Mr. Right never seems to come along.” She said the words lightly, but her heart was strangely heavy. It had never bothered her before, but now suddenly she felt that her Mr. Right never would come, because he was right there beside her. The only trouble was that he already had a family—he had just said so.
“Perhaps you are too choosy,” he said, taking her arm and leading her into the restaurant.
“Perhaps,” answered Megan wistfully, suddenly wishing she had never agreed to go with him for a meal.
Very carefully she kept the conversation light and informal during dinner, determined not to let it get on to a personal level. Soon she had him laughing with her anecdotes of the various characters who worked in the County General.
“I can see it is not only the switchboard that is the fount of all knowledge,” he said, smiling at her, his vivid blue eyes sparkling.
Megan steeled her heart to look at him without going weak at the knees, something she found increasingly difficult to do. Why, oh why did he have to be married, her heart cried out, because by now she was convinced that he was.
“You forget I’ve been at the County General ever since I started nursing. I did my training here and I’ve stayed here ever since.”
“Have you never thought of moving on?” he asked. “Most girls seem to get itchy feet once they have qualified.”
Megan sighed and before she knew it she was explaining to him the reasons she had decided to stay put. Her father had been a doctor in general practice in Devon, and had died very young of leukaemia, leaving her mother with an inadequate pension and two young children to bring up.
“The house, our family home, still isn’t paid for,” she told Giles, “and I feel morally bound to help my mother with the mortgage as she went without so much herself in order to give Richard and me a good education.”
“I’m sorry,” he said gently, reaching across the table and enclosing her small hand warmly within his large one. “It must have been very hard for you all.”
Megan smiled. “Yes, it was, but at least we’ve got the happy memories. My father was such a happy-go-lucky man. Even when he knew he was dying he refused to get depressed, not even at the end. The only thing that did worry him was the fact that he had not taken out a good insurance, and he knew my mother would have a financial struggle when he was gone.”
She sighed again, thinking of those dark days. Then she brightened. “But my mother is a remarkable woman too; she always used to say to him, ‘Who needs money? We have our love, that’s enough.’”
“She was right of course,” said Giles sombrely. “No amount of money is a substitute for love. So, you see, you have been rich really, having a happy childhood, having loving memories to look back on.”
He sounded strangely envious. Megan laughed. “You know all about me,” she said, “but I know very little about you. All I know is that you have a house in Cheyne Walk.”
For a moment he hesitated, then he said slowly, “My childhood was not happy. My parents eventually split up after many terrible rows, and my mother left the country. My sister and I stayed behind in London with my father and had a succession of housekeepers—some good, some bad and some distinctly indifferent.” He smiled at Megan. “So you can see I envy you your background, even if it was cruelly shattered by your father’s death. As you say, you still have happy memories of your mother and father together. Mine, I’m afraid, are only bitter, and they say history always repeats itself.”
With that cryptic remark he changed the subject, leaving Megan more than a little puzzled by his last few words. However, he adroitly steered the conversation on to lighter subjects and soon had Megan laughing with his hilarious accounts of incidents that had occurred at his previous hospitals.
The meal was delicious too. Megan had never been to that particular Italian restaurant before, it was much too pricey for her, but she had certainly heard of its reputation. They started off with antipasto, Parma ham and figs, a combination Megan had never tried before.
“Do you like it?” enquired Giles, anxiously watching Megan’s face as she tasted the dish for the first time.
“It’s delicious, and so simple to make. I must remember to do it myself sometime,” replied Megan.
They followed this with a plate of gnocchi in a cheesy cream sauce, then duck with orange and sage followed by blackcurrant sorbet drenched in some kind of liqueur. By the time they had finished Megan felt in a distinctly mellow mood, a state brought on by the good food and wine they had consumed, plus the pleasure of being in Giles’ company.
“It’s just as well I don’t come here very often,” she remarked jokingly. “I think I would soon put on weight.”
Giles looked across the table, his eyes lighting for a brief second on the curves of her slender figure outlined by the jade green dress. “I agree,” he said. “You don’t want to put on weight, your figure is perfect the way it is.”
Megan blushed self-consciously and he laughed. “You look very pretty when you blush,” he said.
“It’s a habit I wish I could grow out of,” muttered Megan.
“Why?” he asked. “I think it is a charming habit.”
Megan didn’t answer—she lowered her eyes and drained her coffee-cup, aware all the time that his gaze was lingering appreciatively on her. Damn it, she thought nervously, they had managed to keep things fairly impersonal during the whole meal, and now by one chance remark she was suddenly aware again of the crackling undercurrent of electricity between them.
Giles paid the bill and Megan slipped into her brown velvet coat, assisted by an attentive waiter. Then they both walked out of the warm restaurant into the cold night air outside.
“It’s so cold I think we might have snow,” remarked Giles, taking her arm as they walked over the crisply frosted ground in the silent car park towards his bar.
The touch of his hand on her elbow sent delicious prickles of fiery flame along her veins, spreading throughout her whole being. Stop being ridiculous, Megan told herself in panic. He is only politely holding your arm!
She heard her own voice answering him so matter-of-factly it sounded to her as if it was somebody else’s voice, echoing from far away. “I do hope it doesn’t snow—Richard and I are planning to drive down to Devon for Christmas.”
“I shouldn’t worry about it,” came his reassuring reply.
Once seated in the car, Megan assiduously tried to manoeuvre herself as far away from him as possible. She had the ridiculous feeling that if she brushed against him visible blue sparks would fly!
Giles said nothing; he seemed suddenly strangely silent and remote, almost as if his mind was on other things. Although it was obvious to Megan that he wasn’t paying any attention to her, she was still painfully aware of him. The faint odour of his aftershave permeated the car, reminding her of the moment when he had kissed her in the store cupboard.
As they drove along in silence she stole a furtive look at his profile. Even just looking at him caused her heart to somersault. There was a strength in his profile, and yet a tenderness too she thought, looking at his strong jawline with its firmly moulded lips.
All too soon for Megan he drew the car to a gentle halt outside the block of nurses’ flats. The time had come now to say goodnight and he turned towards her.
“Thank you for a lovely meal,” murmured Megan hesitantly. “I enjoyed this evening, thank you.”
“Have you, Megan?” His voice was soft and low. “I’ve enjoyed it too. Thank you for rescuing me from a lonely evening.”
“Don’t mention it.” Megan forced herself to keep her voice light and carefree. But the words died in her throat as he slowly and deliberately reached forward and pulled her head slightly towards him. “I’ve told you before that I like your hair better down,” he said softly as he deftly removed the pins holding it up in the sophisticated chignon. Free of the pins, her hair fell down in a loose, fragrant cloud, and as it did so he ran his long fingers through it, gently kneading the back of her neck.
Megan’s heart beat with a loud uneven thud as she sat, mesmerised by the sensual movements of his fingers. Then slowly, so slowly, he pulled her towards him. Their lips met and fused in a moment of indescribable sweetness, his mouth clinging to hers for a magical moment before he drew his head back.
It seemed to Megan an eternity that he held her like that, his eyes looking searchingly into hers through the dim light of the car. Then his lips brushed the tip of her nose in farewell.
“Goodnight, Sister Jones,” he said. “Be good,” and with a deft flick of his wrist he opened the car door for her and Megan climbed out without a word.
Numbly she half raised her hand in a salute as he pulled away, but he didn’t look back. Watching the red rearlights of the large car as it sped away into the darkness, Megan felt deflated and confused.
He had been so gentle, so tender… The expression on his face had led her almost to believe that he cared, but then suddenly it was as if it had been wiped off by some invisible hand. The expression that replaced it had been careful and guarded. Suddenly he had become the consultant again as he had formally said, “Goodnight, Sister Jones.”
Later that night, as she tossed and turned sleeplessly in bed, Megan realised that she had told him almost everything about herself, but that she still knew very little about him.
“Why don’t you just tell me you are married and have done with it?” she said out loud, thumping the pillow viciously. “Why don’t you just admit you want a brief flirtation with the little Sister in the casualty department, just to stop yourself from becoming too bored! And what if that is exactly what he does want?” she whispered to herself. “What are you going to do, my girl?”
She didn’t really have to tell herself—she knew the answer. She was not the flirtatious type. She was…what was it he had said? Too choosy, yes, that was it. She smiled miserably to herself in the darkness of her room. A leopard can’t change his spots, she thought, and neither can I.